By this time we were in a panic situation, the wind speed of force seven against a tidal stream of over six knots was giving unbelievable conditions. Every time we surfed down a wave, we almost broached. I was having to use both hands on the tiller and all my strength to keep Tranquillity going forward. I must confess to being fearful for my life. It wouldn't be exaggerating to say the swell was at least twenty feet at times. The run in from Q2 seemed endless, dusk was falling, we had missed the last lock in to the marina and were trying to come in on an outgoing tide.

Suddenly I sensed a massive presence alongside us about 50 metres to port, it was a P & O RORO ferry. A cluster of passengers lined the rail and waved as they passed. Little did they know we were fighting for our lives. The wash from the ferry hit us and added to our misery, I almost wished the tiller would break to end it all. We both confessed after it was over to saying a prayer. M couldn't take the tiller, it was taking all my strength to hold us together.

Eventually, we made the Rock lighthouse where M was able to take the tiller while I went forward to drop the main. The wind was still in excess of 25 knots. Back in the cockpit I advised M of our options,

1. We try to pick up a mooring at New Brighton a mile away.
2. We carry on to Tranmere opposite the marina and try for a club mooring.

We were both very tired, it was 22.00. 16 hours since we set out from PSM. We both wanted it to be over, and as soon as possible. The decision to try for a mooring at New Brighton probably saved us from a nasty fate.

It was pitch black, still blowing over 20 knots as we entered the moorings, I went forward with the boat hook to try to hook us on to something, anything to stop the incessant pitching from side to side, up and down. We tried once and failed, almost sideswiping a moored boat. M was having trouble interpreting my instructions with the noise of the wind and the engine, we tried once, twice, at least twenty times to pick up a mooring but failed. I even tried to hook onto another boat. My strength was almost gone now and my judgement with it.

Suddenly M called from the cockpit, I made my way back to see what was the problem, fearing a mechanical fault. "Someone's been calling us on the radio" she panted, "Sailing boat off New Brighton, are you in trouble?" I disbelieved what she had said thinking she was hallucinating, "I repeat, sailing boat off New Brighton, are you in trouble? this is Liverpool Coastguard". I picked up the transceiver and replied, "Liverpool Coastguard, this is yacht Tranquillity over". The reply came back immediately, apparently, someone on the shore had seen our antics, guessed we were in trouble and phoned the Coastguard.

I explained our situation, telling them we had been travelling all day, were both very tired, if we couldn't pick up a mooring, we could be in a worse situation. The Coastguard came back immediately, told us to hold station and they would call out the Lifeboat. I didn't have time to protest, a maroon was fired from the shore, we could see a great deal of activity. Within 10 minutes, the "Atlantic 75" inshore Lifeboat from New Brighton, with three crew aboard was alongside. The Coxswain stepped onto Tranquillity, "Good evening Mr Shepherd, what appears to be the trouble?" I was gobsmacked to say the least. "How do you know my name?" I stammered. Then I realised, we were RNLI members and had filled in the Coastguard coast watch card with our details, we were on their computer.

I explained our problem trying to pick up a mooring, "These wouldn't hold you in this wind" he advised, "We'll tow you up to Tranmere and put you onto your club mooring" "Our engines fine, you don't need to tow us" don't worry, we've got 150 horse power". The coxswain radioed his base with our status and his intentions, then called another crew member to pass their tow line. After making it fast, he came back to the cockpit with me, said hello to a somewhat bemused M, then told his crew to take up the slack and make for Tranmere about three miles up river.

The Lifeboat was trying to tow us too fast, with the following wind, fast ebbing tide we were swinging from side to side like a pendulum. The coxswain radioed the crew on the helm to slow down, this helped but we were only making about two knots over the ground. Our engine was still running so I suggested we take some of the strain of the tow. The coxswain agreed, so I selected forward at about 1500 rpm then steered with the tiller. Our speed went up to 4 knots over the ground, we settled back to concentrate on the job in hand. All the tension had now gone, all I wanted to do was sleep. M offered the Coxswain a drink, he declined saying "when we've got you tucked up safe, we'll have one then.

We passed the Liver building to port then angled across river to Tranmere, it was pitch black but the lifeboat helmsman soon found the trot with the LYC moorings. Because of the speed the river was running, all the pickup buoys were under water but the surface turbulence gave away their position. They cast off our tow to make sure it didn't foul their prop, while I held Tranquillity stationary. After a couple of minutes fishing about, they were successful. The Life-boat drifted down to us and made fast alongside. The coxswain on Tranquillity took our mooring line, gave it to the crewmember, he made it fast to the mooring then passed it back to us. He told me to select neutral to take the strain, the mooring held. We were only a mile from the marina entrance, across the river.

The Lifeboat came back alongside tied on and the coxswain re-boarded her. "What's it to be lads Tea or Scotch?"I asked, their answer was unanimous. I had about three quarters of a bottle of Glen Morangie left, by the time they departed, it was empty. "Where do I make a donation" I asked the crew, they told me where their station was and I promised to return next day. After many thank you's they left. I felt like a balloon with all the air let out. After setting the anchor watch, switching on the riding light, we went below. What a mess, books and charts were strewn across the floor, water was slopping in the bilges which during our aerobatics must have come into the cabin. "Leave it M, let's get to bed and get some sleep before we drop.

The alarm was set for nine, the first lock in was ten, it took ages to raise the lock keeper. Eventually, he answered and we made our way across to the marina. I was like a zombie. The muscles in my back were on fire. The wrestling with the tiller had taken its toll. "Come on M, we're off home, just get our personal stuff". We tied up and got in the car. I was still bouncing up and down, how I drove back home I don't know. "Don't forget the donation" was the last thing I remember saying to M as we climbed into our own bed.

The next twenty-four hours were just a blur, I remember M giving me a drink then I lapsed back into a semi coma. My body's recuperative system must have been working overtime, I had never been so exhausted in my life. We had clocked 86 miles coming back from PSM, and logged 18 hours at the helm. It was a day and a half later before I had recovered enough to get up. All I could think of was keeping my promise with the donation. I got up had a hot shower then spent half an hour on the phone tracing the station that came out to us. The Lifeboat Keeper said he would be happy to receive my donation at the station, and would be there at 14.00 hrs.

Following a quick lunch, we drove to Liverpool, calling at the wine shop on the way. Through the Mersey Tunnel then down to New Brighton, after a few minutes we found the station a concrete building off the sea front.

The sun was blazing down as we got out of the car, how very different from a few short hours ago. Inside the station I sought out the keeper and we introduced ourselves. Then passed over a bottle of scotch for the lads & a cheque for the RNLI funds.

The keeper showed us around the Atlantic 75 which was sat on it's launching trolley, M climbed aboard while I chatted to the keeper. I told him of the call from the coastguard which started things off. He laughed " I phoned the Coastguard, I was coming out of the pub when I saw your masthead light doing pirouettes and guessed you had a problem". I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, "did you hear that M? The RNLI had been touting for business"!

We chatted for a while then left to clean out Tranquillity.

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